


Perv Kitteh

by brisingrdraumar



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-15
Updated: 2012-01-15
Packaged: 2017-10-29 14:56:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/321094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brisingrdraumar/pseuds/brisingrdraumar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock makes a very logical case.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perv Kitteh

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This was written for the Sherlock holiday card exchange for 2010 (http://xmas-xchange.livejournal.com/).
> 
> Italics are either Texts, emphasis, or John’s thoughts (mostly John’s thoughts).

_  
_

_3:30pm in the alley between Tesco and the Indian take-out place._

_Ginger cat with white left forepaw. Bring it home._

_SH_

John looked at his phone with bewilderment. _What on earth could Sherlock want with a damn ginger cat?_ But like with everything Sherlock asks of him, John delivers.  And this is why he finds himself at 3:25pm in the alley between Tesco and a really great Indian take-out, hole-in-the-wall establishment called “Currysomethingorother”, John can never remember, and it isn’t like he can just look since he has never actually seen a sign for the place. He has a feeling that Sherlock knows what the place is called, but delights in letting John flounder whenever he tries to mention it.

He stood there for ten minutes, five minutes after Sherlock told him to be there (which is odd, because Sherlock is normally so precise, _though this would be an odd thing to be able to be precise about_ , and John’s regard for Sherlock is so high that he gives it no more thought than that). A sudden noise from one of the trash receptacles to his left startles John into action. Lifting the lid he sees, lo and behold, a damn ginger cat, well kitten more like, and it is his _right_ forepaw that is white. _That will aggravate Sherlock to no end, I can’t wait to tell him._

John lifted the mangy little thing, “look at you all skin and bones, I thought you were a bit bigger with all of the fluff you have, don’t worry, I won’t let Sherlock experiment on you. Not with anything harmful at least, no chemicals or blunt force or, I don’t know, shaving you bald. Maybe he just wants something cute about, hmm?” The cat just looks at him, “yeah, I didn’t think so either, no matter! I’ll look after you, and lock you in my room when I go to the surgery.”

The kitten didn’t say much, _or anything because he is a damn kitten_ , but he must have been tired after all of his frolicking in the garbage because the little thing curled up in his arms and went to sleep. John just sighed and went and went into Tesco to grab some cat supplies. He had to stick the kitten, _I really need to give you a proper name_ , inside his zipped up coat to keep the little thing warm and to hide him from the employees’ eyes or else he might get yelled at by the old woman working the customer service counter. __

He left Tesco and hailed a taxi, and when he was situated with his bags of milk, food and cat toys he pulled the kitten out of his coat and looked at him stoically, “what shall your name be, then? Jake? No, wait you _are_ a boy right?” He takes a moment to check, and upon seeing the feline’s tiny landmarks of manhood, he flips him over and resumes his one-sided conversation, “what about Chester, hmm? We can call you Chaz for short, well I’ll call you Chaz, no doubt Sherlock will stick to Chester. You’ll like him, most don’t actually, but that’s only because they speak English. Since you don’t you’ll like him just fine,” John left it at that, and fortunately for the poor cabbie, the ride was silent until their arrival to 221b Baker St.

Walking up the stairs to their shared flat, John calls up to Sherlock “want to help me with the bags? No? Well that’s fine I only went and got your damn kitten and the things we’ll need to keep him alive! By the way his name is Chester and I promised him you wouldn’t experi-…”

“Most people find joy in various iconic winter and commercial symbols this time of year, snowflakes, lights and for some godforsaken reason-pun intended-angels and the like. What are your thoughts, John?” came Sherlock’s reply. He was bent over behind the armchair with the Union Jack pillow, and John got an eyeful of his pert behind before Sherlock straightened up, an errant paper snowflake in his hand.

“You…you decorated for Christmas?” John couldn’t quite get his voice to work properly. Christmas was one of the few things that caused an ache in his gut while he was on tour in Afghanistan. He never said it to anyone, _but you can trust Sherlock to deduce my fondness for the holiday_. Chaz wiggled in his arms and John dazedly bent down to release him.

“Mrs. Hudson came by with a box of this nonsense and bearing various festive-and poisonous, might I add-vegetation why on _earth_ is there a tiny animal wondering the flat?” It was vaguely amusing to see Sherlock confused like that.

“’Ginger kitten with the white left forepaw’? Which you were wrong about, it’s the right one by the way, or did you forget that you sent me on that particular errand?”

“Ginger kitt-oh yes. Why am I not surprised that you have found a cat that didn’t really exist? That was nothing, merely a distraction, so Ms. Hudson could turn our flat into this,” he gestures with a sweeping motion, “Christmas…”

“Wonderland?” John breathes helpfully, still a little overcome at the state of the house.

“Well, I was going to say wasteland, but I suppose that works too.” _Sherlock is just so good at the deadpan thing._

“We’re keeping Chaz. I already bought him a tiny bell filled plastic mesh ball thing, so there is no going back.” _Maybe if I talk about the cat, he won’t notice how much this is affecting me. A grown man, undone by paper snowflakes and plug-in lights…_

“Chaz? What a horrific name, John,” Sherlock picked up one of the cat toys out of the bag and tossed it in the general direction of the kitten, “I suppose, if you are attached to it. Invest in some air freshener, litter box odors are dreadful.”

John smiled a little at the admonishment for the name, but otherwise made no reaction. His thoughts still revolved around the decorated flat, from the miniature Christmas tree on the mantle to the snowflakes hanging from the ceiling and the randomly placed bunches of holly. He made a slow circuit around the front room and kitchen area, taking in all of the festive additions before stopping in the kitchen doorway and finally turning to Sherlock with a wide grin.

“You did all this then?”

“If you recall, I said that Ms. Hudson arranged for the transformation.”

“Quit taking the piss, Sherlock! She can’t reach the ceiling…or most of the places these little bundles of holly are!” his smile turns soft, “thank you Sherlock. This is great.” _You think you know a sociopath, then he goes and makes you tear up a bit with his random kindness and want to maybe kiss him if he would let you get away with it._

Sherlock moved a bit closer to where John stood, and pointed up, “Ms. Hudson did place that one.”

John looked to where Sherlock was pointing at, and noticed a cluster of white berries pinned to the top of the entranceway he stood in. When he looked back down he noticed that Sherlock has crowded a bit closer to him.

“Sherlock..?” _Mistletoe? Ms. Hudson has high hopes. Wish he had given his “married to my work” speech to her too. That way I won’t be constantly reminded…_

“I have decided to leave it in place. When attempting to practice certain rituals, it is generally a good idea to adhere to all aspects of it. I highly doubt that Christmas should be exempt from this.” _Oh dear lord, he can’t be serious…oh...oh yes he can._

John’s thinking shut off there as his mind was filled with nothing but the soft feel of Sherlock’s lips on his, Sherlock’s hands on his hips and Sherlock’s knees against his lower thighs. It was a soft, sweet kiss, and it ended mere moments later when Sherlock pulled back. John’s mouth was slightly open and his eyes still closed when Sherlock spoke.

“I have deduced, by observation of various couples in the past few months, that in a marriage, one needs to never overlook important aspects of the union, or else it will fail. In an effort to keep my marriage to my work in perfect working condition, I have come to realize that neglecting one of my work’s most important facets is counterproductive to both my personal satisfaction as well as the health of the relationship.”

“…facets? What important facet Sherlock?” _Just when I thought…then he goes and talks about work…it was nice while it lasted, I suppose._

“One of _the_ most important, John. Do keep up. I am speaking about my colleague, of course. My work is the single most imperative part of my life, and there for my colleague, a very integral part of my work, is most important to me and to the health of my relationship. And because I hold my colleague in very high regard, for very obvious reasons, I wish to integrate him more firmly. I wish to make him the catalyst of the relationship. John, do you understand?” _That is…almost unbearably sweet, my knees might melt, oh god that would be embarrassing._

“I understand that you are wasting valuable time, Sherlock.” _Oh look at him all incredulous, how adorable._

“John, I am trying to tell you that I-mmmph!” _If I knew that I could effectively shut him up just by kissing the daylights out of him, I would have done it ages ago. Let’s see if I can pull his head down a bit so I can get off of my tip toes though._

John wound his arms around Sherlock’s neck and his tongue around Sherlock’s own.  Sherlock gets right down to business and grinds his thigh into John’s interested cock. John is helpless against his urge to thrust up into the pressure as Sherlock relentlessly rubs himself against John’s hip with his answering hardness. They grind harder and faster as their kiss gets rougher and wetter in a clash of tongues and teeth, barely any lips at all now.  Sherlock’s hand slips to the back of John’s head, and his other drops to his ass, push-pulling as Sherlock turns them to press John up against the side of the kitchen entrance. John just moaned and braced his back against the wall to gain just a little more leverage to tilt his hips, a little more pressure, a little more… _more._ _Oh god, almost there, going to come in my pants like a bloody teenager._

Sherlock gives a stuttered grunt and grinds harder when John pulls out of the kiss with a keening whine and a savage bite to Sherlock’s bottom lip. Their mouths are still connected by a bead of saliva that Sherlock sucks off of John’s lip, biting as John clutches him tighter, winding his leg around Sherlock’s unoccupied knee. John’s moans get louder as he nears orgasm, tugging on Sherlock’s hair to angle his head for a rough and dirty tongue fuck, it can’t even be called a kiss at this point, to muffle his cries. Sherlock runs his lips across John’s cheek and down his throat to bury his face in his shoulder as he shudders through his climax with a resonant groan, running a hand up John’s chest and still thrusting his hips and his thigh softly. They calm together, leaning against each other and the wall as they catch their breaths.

“Oh god, he is just a baby and his first day here he gets an eyeful!” John is the first to come to.

“What on earth are you talking about?” And John just points to the kitchen table, where Chaz has managed to climb up and watch them from his newfound vantage point, the bell-ball between his paws.

“Well, best he gets used to it. Regular sexual congress is essential to maintain a healthy relationship, and always fornicating in the bedroom would get so mundane.” John just laughs and presses still-moist kisses against Sherlock’s neck and face, content to stand there with his weight against his flatmate. Boyfriend? Husband? _Surely not…yet at least…though he did say ‘important facet of his work’…which he is married to. Not…yet?_

“Not yet, John.” _I have to know how he does that._ “Deduction, Dr. Watson. Pure deduction.”

John just smiles, “Happy Christmas, Sherlock,” and mouths one last kiss to Sherlock’s lips before he goes to pick up Chaz from the table. _Happy Christmas indeed._

The End

**Author's Note:**

> Hit me up on [my Tumblr](http://aconitebite.tumblr.com) if you so desire (I'm not gonna lie...it's mostly slash with the occasional cute animal and gay porn .gif).


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